Wicked Games
by SecondTry
Summary: My version of events for the Bourne Legacy. Heavy on the Marta and Aaron interaction.
1. Chapter 1

I loved Marta and Aaron's characters and I really just wanted more.

So here here's my version of events.

Hope you guys enjoy.

Comments are welcome.

Oh, and I don't own anything (unfortunately).

**The scene where Marta flashes back to her examination of Aaron.**

**Marta:**

Marta Shearing took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare herself for her workday. Normally, she loved going into work; loved trying to find new and innovative ways of approaching biochemistry, virology and genetics. However, she was wound tighter then a drum at the prospect of going into Sterisyn Morlanta this morning. Her hands were shaking and her heart rate picked up when she looked too closely at what her schedule pertained. She had to admit to herself that she was nervous. _Your being ridiculous. It's just an examination. You've done countless examines since you started working there. This one isn't any different._ She wasn't aware she was just standing there staring at her coffee maker until Peter walked into the kitchen and startled her.

"What are we doing for dinner tonight?" Peter was her boyfriend of two years. They'd bought this fixer upper of a house six months ago and things had been strained between them since for too many reasons.

"Hmm, do you want to just order take out? It'll be late when I get home from work."

"Of course it will," Peter muttered under his breath, making Marta cringe. He was doing that a lot lately too, but she couldn't blame him. She was spending more and more time at work, but Peter was making it difficult for her to want to come home. "Fine, I'll order something and you can heat it up whenever it is you decide to come home."

Peter disappeared without another word, a bang sounding from the sitting room. Peter had lost his job two months ago and that hadn't helped matters between them. She was now the breadwinner so to speak and he was having trouble accepting that. She kept trying to reassure him, telling him he would find another job, but he just blew her off. He was also having a hard time with the fact that she had to keep her work a secret. All he could know was that she worked for the government and that she was a scientist. Couples were supposed to able to share everything and Peter thought that because she couldn't even share that with him, that he was being wronged.

Maybe he had a point.

_What a great start to the day,_ Marta thought dismally, finally making her coffee.

Marta remembered a time when she was just happy to be carrying out research and testing her theories. She and Peter were dating and everything was good between them, but even then there was something off. Her relationship with Peter had been simple and straight forward. Almost too easy. She loved him, she did, but there was a spark missing. It had become more apparent when they'd moved in together. Now he wanted more and Marta wasn't sure she could give it. Not when she thought that she might not even be **_in_** love with him anymore - or at all.

Shaking her head, Marta pulled herself together and grabbed her things. She paused at the sitting room door contemplating whether to stick her head and say goodbye or just leave. She weighed her options. If she opened that door, then there would probably be a fit and she'd be late for work. If she didn't then, well, they'd probably have a fight tonight instead. Sighing Marta opted for a fight tonight. She didn't want to be late for work. She sat into her car and looked at the mess that surrounded her. Her car was a pigsty, stuff strewn everywhere, including fast food wrappers. Marta promised herself that she'd clean up the mess in car, especially since she couldn't fix the mess that was her relationship.

Marta arrived at work with five minutes to spare. She smiled and handed her ID badge over to James, the security guard at the gate. She parked her car and made her way into the lab, entering the code, scanning her palm and using her ID badge to unlock the door.

"His waiting in the lab for you," Dr. Donald Foite informed her, when she got his work room. Marta liked Donald. He was pleasant to spend time with and she didn't have to dumb down her words with him. She also had a suspicion that he might be gay and that enabled her to act more naturally around him. she'd never been good at talking to men, especially ones she found attractive, so Dr. Foite sexual orientation made her feel more comfortable with him - even if she'd only ever thought of him as a friend.

Apart from the science, Marta also part of a team that ran tests on nine operatives. Normally that would be fine. She would let her scientific mind take over, detaching herself from them on a personal level, but today was different.

Today, Five was her patient.

Dr. Hillcott wanted a full work-up, because Five had missed sending in blood's, one too many times. Marta got the impression that Five wasn't the best at following orders. Having meet all the Operative, she found he was he was one of the most rebellious. He constantly asked her questions, challenging her to show emotion, but she couldn't. She wanted to keep her job and asking questions was not the way to go about it. After all, there was cameras in the labs and examination rooms for a reason. So she remained ignorant of everything that went on outside of her little world; remained ignorant of what it was, that these Outcome Operatives did. At least consciously; subconsciously it was different matter.

Shaking herself, she tried to get her head screwed on straight. _Five is just like all the others. His a number. A project. He signed up for this of his own free will._ That's what she was told. That's what she made herself believe.

"Thanks Donald," she said, acknowledging him with a small smile.

Marta opened the exam room door, the sight of Five making her nerves return in spades. He was sitting on the exam table in a hospital gown, his back too her. It hadn't always been like this. At first he was just another number, someone that helped her move forward academically, but he never stopped speaking to her; he always had something to say. While the others sat there and stoically did as they were told. some did ask questions, but usually they were just medically related. Five had managed to humanise himself in her eyes and she was pretty sure he was doing it on purpose.

Marta remembered the deep gash he'd had on his hand the last time he was here. She was curious to how it had healed.

"Hello Doc," Five said, sensing her presence. "And how has your day been?" He didn't bother turning around and she wasn't sure if he was mocking her or not.

"It was fine, thank you for asking." Polite and distant was best. She walked over to the cabinets and placed the forms she had to file on Five on the counter.

"Mine was fine too," Five said, smiling. There wasn't any real emotion behind it; it was a smile for the sake of a smile. "Thanks for asking."

Marta ignored that, but turned around to face him. She hated it when he looked at her like that; like she was doing something wrong. "Let me see your hand, please?" She tried to distract herself from his expression with work. Five held his hand up, fingers spread apart. Marta wanted to keep everything business like, but she was finding it hard to keep her composure. "That has healed up nicely." She ran the pointer finger of her right across the wound that should have been there, but there wasn't even a scar. "Any diminished sensation?"

Five shook his head. "Nope."

Marta turned away and filled a syringe with anaesthesia. She was going to have to put him under while she carried out her tests. In a way she was glad she had to put him to sleep. The way he watched her, as ironic as it sounded, made her feel like she was under a microscope. He was intense and that intensity was starting to get to her, no matter how hard she tried to separate herself from her emotions. She could hear him rustling around on the medical table, but she could also feel the weight of his heavy stare on the side of her face when she turned to inject the contents of the syringe into his trip.

"You trying to put me down, Doc?"

"We'll, I'm afraid there's been a few gaps in your samples deliveries, so..."

"Uh-oh."

"...we need a full work-up. This is it." Marta picked up his Chems container and placed on her clip-broad. She hated that he wasn't taken this seriously. They had to have constant work-up's for a reason. She didn't want to see him die from some side effect of the Chems they could have caught if he'd do his blood work on time. It wasn't like she found it fun to poke and prod a human being. After all she'd never really been a people person, her nose constantly stuck in her books.

"Another one? Why is because I missed a blood drop? So ho..how'd you think it works? Doc? That we can just call a timeout? Everything stops, while you pull your samples?"

Marta resolutely kept her back to him, preparing sample tubes and other instruments she would need. No, she didn't want to know. She also didn't want to look at his face; didn't want him to see how much he was getting to her. She had to play this right. If the cameras picked on anything that was overtly familiar between them... Well, she had a feeling that she didn't want to know what they would do to her if she was seen to be becoming too friendly with an Operative.

"Why don't you lie down? Hmm? And relax." She tried to get him to stop. She didn't want either of them to get in trouble.

Yeah, I..." She thought she had him, she really did, but as she already knew, he was too damn stubborn for his own good. That in itself was a problem. She shouldn't know that he had a stubborn streak or that he was sarcastic or that he had a dry sense of humour. She also shouldn't have noticed how nice his eyelashes were. "Wh..What is you think we do out there?"

"Ok. That is enough information!" It came out sounding sharper then she intended, but he was scaring her with his damn questions. She wasn't supposed to think about what they did out there; she just did research. Her **_job_** was research.

"No I... Ah, well, your just a Doctor."

Marta couldn't help quickly looking back at him, hoping her expression was stern. "You know we're on camera." She quickly looked away again, when he caught her eye. So much for stern. She was pointing out the obvious, using it as a flimsy excuse to avoid his questions, they both knew it.

"Really?" He paused and Marta found herself holding her breath. "Is that why you make such an attractive appearance?"

"Okay. Why don't you count backward from a hundred, please?" Marta placed her left hand on the side of his neck, behind his ear. Despite her gloves, she couldn't deny that she felt the heat his skin gave off burn into her. He placed her right one on his shoulder. He stared at her while he started counting in another language. Marta looked away feeling something twisting in her heart.

Feeling him slump, his counting slowing and becoming slurred, she gently guided him down so he was lying on the table. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. While he was awake Five exuded fierceness and intimidation, like some men exuded confidence. He looked peaceful while he was asleep, although she knew Operative didn't need to sleep much, because of their physical enhancements.

Five was trouble. She was allowing him to get under her skin; each visit making it that much more clear that she was far more affected by him then she'd like. His comment about her 'attractive appearance' had made her blush, all over. It made her heart race, her breath hitch and her knees weaken. This was not good, so she did what she did when she wanted to square her emotions away, she looked at it from a clinical perspective. This allowed her to rationalise Five's behaviour, because he would never be interested in someone like her. He was a solider and she was a scientist; she knew she wasn't his type. He was just saying things like that to try and rattle her so that she might accidentally give information away.

And maybe she already had.


	2. Chapter 2

So I kinda of got carried away and watched the Bourne Legacy two more times and as a result this chapter was written pretty quickly.

I can't say if this will happen again, but Chapter 3 definitely won't be amount ill a few days later. College life both rocks and sucks.

**This is my more Marta/Aaron friendly version of the events of the day which ended in Dr. Foite going on a chemically induced spree.**

**8 months later:**

**Marta:**

Marta lay on her side, half awake. A warm hand sliding under her tank top and over her stomach. Warm breath and stubble on the back of her neck; causing goose-pimples to manifest. It made her entire body came alive with sensations as that hand continued it's journey up, coming to rest just under the curve of her right breast. Marta's breath quickened, her body trembling in anticipation. His thumb caressed the line of skin between her breasts, back and forth, back and forth. Marta moaned softly. A biting kiss to her jaw, just below her ear, another to her neck and a sucking kiss to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Marta arched backwards, waves of pleasure coursing through her, her soft body meeting the resistance of a hard, male one.

"Do you like that Marta? Huh?" A muscled jean-clad thigh, finding it's way between her legs, pressing up against the burning ache that was slowly becoming an inferno. "Are you all wet for me?" Marta couldn't speak, so she just nodded eagerly. Her panties were soaked through and she was pretty sure so were her pyjama shorts. He had to feel the same scalding heat that was tormenting her, against his thigh.

"Hmm, that's good. I want you soaking before I make you mine." Finally, mercifully, his hand moved up to cup her breast, his thumb now moving slowly - maddeningly - over her straining nipple. She couldn't contain the long moan that he was drawing from her. Marta's mind was shrouded in a fog of lust, it was the only reason she could think of not to have realised she was pressing down on his thigh, rocking against it. Meanwhile, he continued to massage her breast, paying particular care to her over-sensitised nipple. "That's it, Marta. That's my girl."

Marta wasn't even sure how it was possible, but the possessive tone of his voice made her clench her own thighs around his, as the first wave of pleasure hit her...

**Beep! Beep! Beep! Beeeeeep! Beeeeeeeeep!**

Marta arched up off her bed, her heart racing, her thighs locked together as an orgasm gripped her. She locked fistfuls of her bedsheets in her fists, her duvet having been regulated to the bottom of the bed.

**Beeeeeeeeeeeep! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep!**

Marta turned and slapped her hand down on her alarm clock; six a.m. "Oh God," she muttered, placing her hand over her heart. She felt herself blushing fiercely, despite the fact that no one knew what happened while she was asleep. No one knew, that for a while now, she'd been having various x-rated dreams about a certain Outcome Operative. It had even started before Peter left, which made her feel guilty, but she couldn't control her own subconscious. The only constant in each of her dreams was that they never kissed and they were always wearing clothes. Fortunately, the dreams she had while she was still with Peter hadn't been as graphic or as, ah, effective in reality as the ones from the last couple of months.

It had been eight months since Peter had moved out; eight months since she'd last seen Five. It irked her that she was having wild, sexual dreams about a man, whose name she didn't even know. It was like having repeated one-night stands with the same person over and over again. The last she'd heard was that Five had missed another blood drop, which she wasn't too surprised about. As for Peter, a week after she'd carried out Five's last exam, he'd packed up while she was at work and left. She hadn't spoken to him since. The house was in the same state that he had left it, a giant reminder of her failed relationship. Marta didn't have the heart to call in people to fix it for her. She pinched the fridge of her nose and made herself stop thinking about Five and Peter. Those men were out of her life, even if Five kept revisiting her dreams.

Marta pulled herself from her bed and set about getting ready for work. Her life had been rather depressing lately, but little did she know, it was about to vbe come a hell of a lot more complicated.

* * *

Marta sat at her desk examining the culture of a new virus. There was nothing like work to take her mind off of all the crap in her life. She was so engrossed in what she was doing, that she had to look twice when she spotted Donald. Something about his posture, his expression, wasn't right, but she was distracted by a chirping noise before she could ask him what was wrong.

**BANG!**

Startled and beyond frightened, Marta's head snapped up and she sprang to her feet. Donald had shot Dr. Hilcott in the head. Dr. Talwar who'd been standing beside Hilcott tried to run, but Donald shot him in the back twice.

**BANG! BANG!**

Everything after that happened in snap-shots; at least they did in her head. It felt as if time had slowed to a nails pace. She threw herself under her table. Marta was told later, the order her colleagues died in, but she already knew. She watched them all die. Marta could hear Dr. Lieberburg repeating the word no, as she crawled along the floor.

**BANG!**

Dr. Talwar had found his way to feet and headed towards the other door. "Help!" He shouted banging on the door to try to get the attention of the people outside. "Open the door." Marta made it to the back door, trying in vain to get it to open, but it was locked.

**BANG! BANG!**

Marta gasped in surprise as Donald shot Dr. Lieberburg two more times, making sure she was dead. She slammed on hand on the emergency button repeatedly, ducking back down and crawling along the floor again, the alarm sounding behind her.

"Open the door!" She could still hear Dr. Talwar shouting, as she found her way under one of her colleagues desks. Dr. Benezara was hidden under the desk across from her.

**BANG! BANG! BANG!**

Dr. Talwar stopped shouting, falling to the ground. Marta and Berezara could see him from where they were hiding; five bullet holes in his back.

"We got to go for the back door," Berezara whisper-yelled, pointing at it.

"It's locked. He locked the back door." Marta responded breathlessly, her entire body shaking with fear and adrenaline. She couldn't believe this was happening. She could hear Dr. Chandra's pleas and risked taking a look around the corner of the desk. Donald was moving towards her, gun by his side.

"His going to kill us all." Berezara shook his head, his face scrunched up in fear. Marta tried to shush him, afraid he'd give their positions away, even as she chocked back a sob. Dr. Chandra's pleas were getting louder.

**BANG!**

Marta jumped, folding in on herself in fright.

**BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!**

The sound of something dropping. Dr. Berezara moved to the opposite side of the desk to Marta's and moved his head out to see where Donald was. He pulled back just in time to avoid four shoots.

**BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!**

Marta meet Berezara gaze and she knew he was planning to run. Helpless to do anything, she could only watch and listen to the bullets Donald chased him with. Dr. Berezara went down with a loud yell and the sound of shattering glass.

**BANG! BANG! BANG!**

She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms, fear churning in her stomach. It was like a nightmare come to life, but she would never have thought Dr. Donald Foite would be the madman behind it. She held her breathe while watching Donald legs, pass by her hiding place.

**BANG!**

He'd followed Berezara into the small supply room. He stood over the man, looking in the opposite direction to Marta's hiding place. Deciding it was now or never, she made a break for it, heading toward one of the storage units. She was surprised when she don't hear Donald fire any shots after her. After grabbing the door handle in both hands, Marta thought better of it. Instead she pulled off her lab coat, wrapped it around the round knob, before tying a knot in it so she had two pieces to hang on too. Twenty seconds later, Donald was trying the door handle, pulling it out, once, twice, but with no success. He peered into the room and Marta was caught by his gaze.

There was something about it. Something not right.

**BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!**

Marta kept her head down while he shot at the glass, but when there was a short pause she risked looking up. She saw him drop the clip from his gun. Something must have distracted him, because he looked away, but that was the opportunity Marta had been waiting for. Flinging the door open, she caught Donald with it, sending him flying. She ran across the room and crouched down behind another desk.  
She was on the verge of hysteria now. Her breathing came in wheezes, short and fast, her heart pounded its way out of her cheat, her entire body shook, feeling equally hot and cold. _Oh, God! I don't want to die._ She curled up into herself, foolishly hoping to make herself a smaller target. She was going to die. This was the end.

Then there was the sound of the door opening and voices. Marta risked a glance and saw the security men converging on the room from the front access door.

"Drop it! Stop! Drop the weapon!"

**BANG!**

This time it wasn't Donald's gun. She watched him fall to his knees.

"Drop it. Drop the weapon!"

Donald looked over at her and raised his gun, aiming briefly at her, before turning the gun on himself, positioning it under his jaw. Marta pulled back before he pulled the trigger.

**BANG!**

A scream escaped her, when she heard the **splat**; the sound of her friend blowing his brains to pieces.

Everything after that was a blur. Marta remembered been escorted out of the building and sitting into a car. She remembered sitting at the police station while they questioned her about things they were not classified to know. She distinctly remembered them asking about the exam rooms that were apparently supposed to used for storage, because it brought Five to the forefront of her mind. She choose to focus on him, on their last conversation, rather than listen to the cop's ask her questions she couldn't answer. She also used the memory to not think about how close she'd come to death.

When Marta had finally gotten home that night, she first made sure that every window and door was locked. Secondly she grabbed her gun from its hiding place and carried it upstairs. She took care of the necessities in the bathroom, before entering her bedroom, the gun still in hand. She locked the door and placed the gun on her nightstand. She stripped herself of her clothes and curled up into a ball in the middle of her bed, wrapping her blanket around herself. She had been crying silent tears from the moment she'd entered the house, but now, great, heaving sobs, shook her body. All she wanted was someone to hold her, comfort her, make her feel like everything was going too be alright. But she had no one.

Marta cried for what felt like hours, but when she finally fell asleep instead of nightmares, warm hands held her close. "I've got you. Your safe now," Five breathed the words in her ear. And even though it was just a dream, Marta did feel safe.

That morning Marta made the decision to go visit her sister in Montreal. She needed to get away from everything. She needed to be around people who loved her and would support her. Out here she was all alone and that was bound to start messing with her already delicate psyche. No, she needed to be around people.

The phone rang ten minutes after she booked the tickets and she was informed of impromptu meeting with an agent.

Marta didn't think she was paranoid person, but that sent alarm bells ringing. She couldn't refuse though, because it was part of her contract.


	3. Chapter 3

So I wanted to write Aaron's POV for the lab scene and his being in the wilderness while the mass murder happens at Sterisyn Morlanta to set the background for their first meeting in eight months.

Hope you guys enjoy.

Thanks everyone.

**Aaron:**

**Eight Months Earlier **

Aaron was just recovering from a extremely bad flu. At least the symptoms had been similar to a flu. Aches and pains and a high temperature were all he could really remember, but he hadn't been sick in over three years so he'd been resigned to his faith. The only thing he could focus on being his oncoming death. So when he woke up over a week later, feeling physically fine, he'd been shocked to say the least.

What awaited him when he woke wasn't much better then the flu he'd suffered. He got a phone call from his commanding officer giving him shit about blood work.

"This is unacceptable behaviour, Private. You were order to hand in your blood work like every other Operative, but you seem to blatantly disregarding my authority. You will report to Sterisyn Morlanta at ten hundred hours! You will submit to there exams! You will not miss another blood drop again or there will be consequences! That is a direct order, Private!"

"Yes, sir," Aaron Cross agreed, staring up at his apartment ceiling. "I understand, sir. It won't happen again."

"It had better not." Orders given, Aaron's commanding officer hung up.

Took them long enough, Aaron thought sitting forward. It had taken two missed blood drops and some small spurts of 'rebellious' behaviour to earn that call. He'd been steadily working his way towards this; months of planning having brought him to this point. The first time an Operatives disobeyed orders, they received a verbal reprimand. Aaron had achieved that. The second reprimand was a wilderness survival trek in Alaska and that's exactly where he wanted to be.

From the information he'd gathered, Operatives that were sent on the trek meet with a contact that provided them with shelter and food. He had heard rumours that the contact was another Outcome Operative like him, but if he was, that meant he had Chems. At first, Aaron had seen it as a way of gaining a vacation away from his life. A nice wilderness trek sounded like the perfect temporary antidote to his messed up life. He was only toying with the idea of purposely getting himself regulated there, but as time went on another idea started to take form.

Aaron's life was series of violent deaths, blood, bombs and decay. From the time he'd joined the army, to the last four years of his life, all Aaron knew about life is that everybody died. And everybody wanted something.

Well, what he wanted was a way out.

Aaron wanted to be his own person, but in order to achieve that, he needed a shit load of Chems. He would need his mind, to stay one step ahead of his enemies, when they tried to capture him. Because without the Chems, Aaron would regress. There was no way in hell he was letting that happen. He'd become dependant on his enhanced intelligence. It made his life before seem dulled around the edges.

Aaron had been born Kenneth Kitsom, in Reno, Nevada. He'd lived in a group home for kids with insufficient cognitive ability. While he might have been intelligent in the classic sense, but he'd made up for it with common sense. Not knowing what he was missing, he never felt cheated out of being smart, but now...

Now, Aaron knew what it was like, he was never going back. Not if he could help it.

* * *

"Hello Doc," Aaron said, sensing her presence. In fact, he always felt her presence whenever she entered the room. "And how has your day been?" Aaron stared straight ahead waiting for the Doc to round the table. He could also fee her discomfort coming off her in waves.

"It was fine, thank you for asking." She sounded distant and polite; her default emotion when it came to interacting with him. Dr. Shearing walked over to the cabinets and placed the forms in her hand on the cabinet.

"Mine was fine too," he said, smiling. There wasn't any real emotion behind it; it was a smile for the sake of a smile. "Thanks for asking."

Dr. Shearing ignored him, but Aaron was used to it. "Let me see your hand, please?" She asked, her tone business like. _Hmm, what would it be like to rattle her cage?_ He wondered holding his hand up, fingers spread apart, for her inspection. She wanted to keep things professional and he wanted to fuck her until she screamed his name. He desperately wanted to press up against the nearest wall and bury himself in her warm heat. "That has healed up nicely." She ran the pointer finger of her right hand across the wound that should have been there, but there wasn't even a scar. "Any diminished sensation?"

Aaron shook his hand, watching her face. If she looked down right now, she'd see the evidence of that. "Nope."

Unfortunately Dr. Shearing turned away and Aaron forced himself back under control. He wasn't that much of a bastard. Yet. He had a feeling that the innocent Doc would freak out if she knew just how attracted he was to her. He was the big, bad soldier after all. He watched her fill a syringe with what he could only assume was anaesthesia. He shifted around on the table trying to get more comfortable, watching the Doc's actions. He could tell by her posture that she was tense, her shoulders hard, her back ramrod straight. Her face told him the same story, her lips tight. She injected the contents of the syringe into his drip.

"You trying to put me down, Doc?"

"We'll, I'm afraid there's been a few gaps in your samples deliveries, so..."

"Uh-oh."

"...we need a full work-up. This is it." Shearing picked up his Chems container and placed it on her clip-broad. She sounded annoyed with him, but she didn't know about his plan and he wasn't about to inform her.

"Another one? Why is because I missed a blood drop? So ho..how'd you think it works? Doc? That we can just call a timeout? Everything stops, while you pull your samples?"

Aaron wasn't going to deny that he liked shaking up the good Doc's ordered world. She struck him as the type of person who needed everything in a neat little order. He purposely went out of his way to fluster her. He liked to watch the flush that spread across her cheeks, imaging all the other places that he could cause to flush. But since he couldn't cause her to flush the way he wanted, the next best thing was asking her questions about what she thought he did after he left the lab.

Aaron smirked to himself, when Dr. Shearing resolutely kept her back to him. She was refusing to give him an answer, but he knew she didn't want to know. What she wanted, was to remain ignorant. He couldn't blame her; sometimes he wanted to be ignorant too. But then he remembered what it was like before the programme and he didn't want to return to that either. He was stuck in a grey zone. She didn't want him to see her face; didn't want him to see how much he was getting to her. Aaron felt a perverse sense of satisfaction from that.

"Why don't you lie down? Hmm? And relax." _Only if you come lie down with me_, he thought to himself. It was odd, really, but the Doc really bought out the hormonal alpha male in him.

Yeah, I..." Aaron wanted to take pity on her, but then he remembered that she was one of the scientists that he was a lab rat for. His vision started to become blurred around the edges and he was starting to feel drowsy. "Wh..What is you think we do out there?"

"Ok. That is enough information!" Her tone was sharp. He was scaring her and he knew it, but he couldn't stop himself. She was afraid of getting in trouble; the camera making sure they both acted like good little puppets.

"No I... Ah, well, your just a Doctor."

Doc looked back at him, trying to seem stern, but she couldn't hold his eyes. "You know we're on camera."

"Really?" _Oh yeah? He hadn't noticed. _A highly trained Operative not noticing a camera on the wall, shocking. Ah, the drugs were well and truly kicking in. Even his heightened physicality couldn't keep these drugs at bay. "Is that why you make such an attractive appearance?"

Aaron smiled, sleepily. He knew he shouldn't have said that aloud, but hopefully she'd take it the wrong way and think he was messing with her head.

"Okay. Why don't you count backward from a hundred, please?" Doc placed her left hand on the side of his neck, behind his ear. She placed her right hand on his shoulder. Despite her gloves he felt the heat of her hand seep into him. He watched her face as he counted backwards, before falling asleep.

* * *

**Eight Months Later**

Aaron emerged from the icy water, his body shaking, canister in hand. He grabbed up the foil blanket and wrapped himself up, keeping as close to the fire as possible. It had taken him a while, because he'd wanted to make sure it didn't look intentional.

With all the psych reports and interviews, he had to be careful.

**Ah-wooooo!**

The wolf pack that had been following him ever since he'd been dropped off. He was glad he didn't have to sleep much, because he spent most of that night keeping the wolves at bay. He took his Chems on and made his over the mountain. It wasn't the safest route, but he liked taking the risk. Considering how many dangerous situations he'd gotten into as a result of his mind in the past, he liked using his mind to get himself through dangerous situations now.

Shooting off two welcoming shots into the wilderness, Aaron took his Chems and hid it away.

_Time to get this show on the road._

Aaron was walking for about two hours when he felt the other mans gaze from up in a tree to his right. Walking by without acknowledging him, he waited until he heard the thump. He turned around to see a dark haired man watching him like he was some escaped zoo animal.

"I wasn't expecting you do soon. What did you do? Go over the mountain?" The two men stood sizing each other up.

"Don't they forward my position?"

"You beat the record by two days."

"Oh, yeah?"

Aaron was strangely proud of himself, but he kept himself in check.

"Yeah." The contact paused, skeptically eyeing Aaron. "You didn't know there was a record?"

"No. Never came up. Wasn't your record was it?" Aaron figured that might account for the animosity being thrown his way.

"No one comes over the mountain."

"Yeah, well, I did." Aaron felt a need to steer the conversation away from his behaviour. "I'm Aaron, by the way."

"Why'd you do that? If you weren't on the clock, why'd you take the risk? Why take the mountain?"

"I lost my Chems. I dropped my programme kit. That's why."

The contact relaxed - well as much as any solider can relax - dismissing Aaron's reckless behaviour and instead focusing on his mistake.

Exactly as Aaron wanted.

When they got back to the cabin, the contact told Aaron that it was protocol to call in his arrival and to send in his blood work with a drone. Aaron dropped his bag and

"So look, I gotta real problem here." The other man didn't even bother looking at him. "I came over that mountain cause I lost my Chems."

"What are you taking?"

"Daily? Phys meds, fifty green. Cognitive Programmes, four hundred blue."

"Define lost?"

Aaron had to make this sound plausible.

"Lost. Fell into the rocks off a twenty metre cliff. Lost."

"How's that possible?"

Aaron let out a snort of derision. "Look, I've had a pack of wolves on my ass since I left the drop, ok? I thought I lost them, but the came at me at the river. So I took the ledge up to the ravine, tried to rally out the night. I choose wrong. Got caught out in the open, couldn't climb. Couldn't make a fire. My hands got stiff. I dropped them."

"Your going to have to write that up."

Aaron couldn't help the snigger that escaped him. A change of subject was in order. "So is that yours?"

"Hmm?"

"The blood work." Aaron nodded at the tubes of blood. "That's yours, isn't it? Your not a contact are you?" The contact stiffened, his whole body taunt. Aaron was really good at making people want to kill him.

"Look I'm sorry to call you out like that. It's just that I've never meet anyone from the programme before. Never. Nobody. Your like the first... I know you have some extra Chems here."

"Am I supposed to ration you out so you can leave tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

Did you Chem today?"

"Green only. Haven't had a blue in thirty-two hours," he lied easily. Only someone who'd seen a man go into withdrawal could understand what it meant to not have had a blue in so long.

It took him until the following day, but Aaron worked his way into the Operative good graces, even if he didn't learn his name. He watched his movements closely and discovered that the man had a large supply of Chems in a shack outside of the house. Aaron was already formulating a plan to get his hands on them.

Stepping out of the cabin, Aaron ears picked up something in the distance. "You hear that?"

"Yeah, what is that?"

"Are you expecting anything?"

"Not in this weather," the contact stated, fiddling with the radio.

Aaron went back outside, the noise growing louder. "I'm going to get a higher vantage point." He picked up his bag and jogged away from the bag, leaving the contact to try and contact whatever it was coming towards them.

**BOOM!**

Aaron was thrown forward, hard snow breaking his fall. _Jesus! What the fuck?_ Springing to his feet, Aaron spun around. The cabin was gone, blown up by the missile. The contact was surely dead. Aaron's heart stopped. _The Chems._ He jogged back to the place where the outdoor shack had been and fell to his knees, searching the snow for Chems. _No! No! No!_

They were gone.

Blue and green snow showcasing the remains.

**_Shit! Shit! Shit!_**

It wasn't over yet. That had been no accident; he was supposed to be dead too. But he wasn't!

He'd have to fix that.


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys, sorry about the delay in all of my fics, but I'm in the middle of my Masters at College so I have a tonne of extra work as well as working to pay for it so I hope you can forgive me :) I cannot wait until the summer time. More time to write :)

Thanks to everyone who has read, favourited, followed and reviewed.

Hope you enjoy.

Oh and I own nothing.

**This is the scene after the shoot-up at the lab where Aaron saves Marta, but with a slight twist.**

**Aaron:**

Aaron was bombed, cut himself open, attacked by wolves and drones and had the gone on to steal a plane. It was not one of the hardest missions he'd faced, but it had been a good deal messier. He's made it back on US soil with only a few minor problems and started tracking down information. They were being targeted. Outcome was being shut down. The shooting at Sterisyn Morlanta was in no way a coincidence. He been surprised and more relieved then he cared to admit to discover Dr. Shearing was still alive. But she wouldn't stay that way for long.

Aaron had hightailed it to Marta's home - he'd seen her first name in the newspapers and found her address online - and he was currently standing outside in the dead of night watching it. He'd already checked the perimeter and everything was in order, but now he had to check inside. He just hoped he'd gotten here on time. _I'm only helping her, because she might be able to get me more Chems. That's it. _Aaron desperately wanted to believe that, that was his only motivation. Anything else, would just complicate an already complicated situation. Especially, since he knew he was no good for the Doc. She did not deserve to be saddled with any of his darkness. Not that he thought she would ever want to be with him in any capacity.

Aaron easily broke into Marta's dilapidated house. He was not impressed by her lack of security measures and he suppressed the urge to lecture her on safety when next he spoke to her. He thought it odd that she would live in a house like this in the middle of nowhere. She was already isolated by her job, but maybe that was the point. _Once you get used to being on your own, it's a hard habit to break. _He methodically began searching the first floor for cameras or listening devices, as well as any signs of a struggle. He kept one of his guns at the ready, just in case. Having found nothing, he carefully made his way upstairs. There was only one room with its door closed and after checking them all, he stood outside the very last room. This had to be Marta's bedroom.

Aaron's right hand clenched and unclenched, squeezing his gun. He really hoped he wasn't too late.

He quietly opened the door, shoving it back slowly and made his way into the dark room. His eyes adjusted quickly - one of the perks of his Chems, although he was surprised it hadn't started to ware off yet. Marta was lying the middle of the bed, facing the door and curled into a ball. She appeared to be asleep, but he could hear her whimpering. The Doc had suffered a great trauma; where as Aaron was used to the everyday drudgery of the combat lifestyle he lead, used to death and decay. Marta was effectively an innocent. It added another fracture to his already fractured heart to hear her in such pain.

Maybe that was why Aaron found himself standing beside her bed, reaching out to her, before he'd even thought it through. This was not like him. He didn't get emotionally involved. He messed with people's heads, tried to psychologically torment his opponents. He didn't try to comfort. Ever since he'd been put on the blue Chems all he did was think. Think about his past, think about his present, think about his future and all the shit in between. He thought about all the deaths he'd been responsible for and then when he couldn't take it anymore, he thought about Marta. She helped to starve off his inner demons when they were at their worst without even knowing it. He planned to keep it that way. His thoughts were one thing, but if Marta ever found out how dependent he was on her for his sanity, she'd probably take off running in the other direction.

Aaron found himself tracing the line of Marta's cheek, the curve of her nose, her bottom lip. Her whimpering stopped and she leaned toward his touch. Her face was red and puffy; she'd obviously cried herself to sleep. Another fracture on his heart and he knew he had to stop. This was strictly business. _Keep telling yourself that. _He pulled his hand away and was almost at the door before she let out a small, frightened cry. He was instantly back at her side. He sat down on the bed and pulled her into his lap. He was careful not to jostle her too much. "I've got you," he breathed in her ear, so as not to wake her. "You're safe now."

**Marta**:

Marta was moving around her house, picking out things she'd need at her sisters. She was waiting for the company people to arrive so that she could be on her way. Her mind wandered back to last night and the dream that had been with her all day. It had felt so real, but it couldn't be. There was no way Five had been in her house last night. There was no way that he'd held her all night or stroked her hair soothingly.

There was just no way.

The phone ringing brought her back to earth.

Soon Marta found herself been talked too like a six-year-old. She was acting completely irrational, at least that's what the psychologist, Dr. Connie Dowd, wanted her to believe. She didn't like the way that she kept questioning her sanity, as if she was about to have a mental breakdown. Dr. Dowd was starting to make Marta question her own mental health. She had thought she was handling the whole thing well enough considering what happened. I've suffered a major trauma, that's all. It's just making me paranoid. This woman is only following procedure. Marta tried to reassure herself even as the other woman continued to question her. She found her thoughts wandering back to the night before, when she could have sworn that Five was in her bed, holding her, comforting her. She's been engulfed with such a feeling of safety and rightness that she'd thought she'd finally cracked when she'd woken this morning to find no one beside her. It is possible I'm losing my mind then. Who dreams up a man whose very presence makes me uneasy in order to make myself feel safe? Her feelings and thoughts were all over the place today. She was a walking contradiction of emotions. She'd been under immense pressure at work for so long, couple that with her break-up and her unstable attachment and dreams of a certain top secret agent/program/asset (whatever the hell he was) and she could very well have become unhinged.

_No! _She told herself firmly. _I'm a human being having a natural response to a massive cluster-fuck that has taken over my life. _Marta didn't normally curse, but she felt the situation warranted some verbal ranting on her part. It felt rather therapeutic. Everything else in her life was just fodder for Dowd's canon. At least she had no idea about Marta's one-sided attraction to Five. Dowd continued asking questions and she continued to answer, getting more and more agitated. _Why the hell do I have to go through so much red tape to leave? _A slippery feeling of fear wound its way down Marta's spine and caused her heart to constrict painfully. There was something seriously wrong with this whole thing. She could feel it, even if she couldn't put her finger on what it was that was making her feel so uneasy. She felt like an insect caught in a glass tube, unable to escape scrutiny. _At least when Five looks at me like that, like he could see my deepest, darkest secrets, I don't feel like I'm about to suffocate. Well, maybe, just a little, but for completely different reasons. _Marta tried to orient herself back I into the conversation she'd been only half aware of having with Dowd. She was finding it hard to curtail the impulse to throw one of her saucepans at the good Doctors head, when she used that condescending tone of hers.

"How do I even know that you have the proper clearance for this?" She finally snapped after her intelligence had been questioned one to many times. _I may not have a lot going for me, but my intelligence is something I'm very proud. I won't let anyone undermine that. _

"Marta I want to sign off on you, but you have to work with me," Dowd said, firmly, leaning forward in her chair. Marta nodded her head almost imperceptibly, but Dowd took that as permission to continue and a sign of Marta's co-operation. "You states that Dr. Foite and you had no relationship outside of work?"

Marta suppressed the tears threatening to fall, but couldn't sniff slightly as she answered quietly. They weren't supposed to socialize together outside of the lab. "None."

"There was material in his apartment that indicates that he had an unusual fixation with you." Marta spun round, shocked at the information she was being told. "Photographs. Journal entries. They found several articles of clothing."

"Did you ever rebuff him in any way?"

Marta was stunned. "No! No, no." A short confused laugh escaped her before she admitted, "I always thought he was gay." He'd never made any passes or looked at her in a way that made her feel that he thought of her in that way. Not that she was an expert in that regard. Quite the opposite in fact. _Not many men look at me like that. Especially after I open my mouth and start spouting out terms like 'mapping genetics' or define a virus as 'submicroscopic particles whose genomes are elements of nucleic acid that replicate inside living cells using the cellular synthetic machinery for production of progeny virions (either RNA or DNA, never both)' and suddenly they remember they have somewhere better to be. _But she'd never gotten that vibe from Donald. He'd been her friend and she'd been terrified by his out of character behavior.

"Look no one is suggesting you're responsible for what happened," Dowd continued prattling on about how she shouldn't feel guilty for surviving and that it wasn't her fault that Donald had gone on a killing spree. She was trying to imply that Donald had spared her from the death her colleagues had relieved, but she hadn't seen the look in his eyes. He would have killed her too, if he hadn't been shoot.

"He let me live?" This woman had no idea. She was just some god damn psychologist trying to reason away murder. "Have you seen the video? _**Do**_ you really think that's what it shows? You are asking all the wrong questions." She was shouting now, keyed up on the indignation and anger. Marta sat down heavily, her eyes wide and conflicted. Suddenly, she just wanted to get this whole mess off her chest. Talking about it might help her make sense of what was going on.

"What should I be asking?"

"Has anyone looked at Dr. Foite's blood work? Have they? I mean that is the only thing that's going to make any sense here. His behaviour was - " Marta paused briefly her mind running a mile a minute. "Look, there are projects at Sterisyn. Defense projects that could explain why he did what he did." That was something she desperately wanted to believe. She was taking a huge risk revealing any of this information to Dr. Dowd, but Marta couldn't hold it in any longer. "People there are working on...on behavioural design. it is programmable behavior Neural design. do you understand what I am telling you? I think he was exposed to something at the lab."

Before she could stay anymore the other agent walked into the room holding her gun.

Marta let out gasp as she pushed away from her table. "What are you doing? That's my gun. What the hell is this?" Marta, whose patience had been non-existent to begin with, was on the verge of nervous break down, thanks to these people.

"You're a potential suicide risk," the man informed her, as he advanced toward her.

"No. Wait a minute! How did you find - ?" She turned her accusing glare on Dowd. "How did he find that?"

"Marta - " Dowd began with that 'that poor woman is losing her mind' head shake and Marta felt anger course through her body in response.

"No! No!" She denied the Dowd, as much as the fear that beginning to overtake her anger. "Okay! This meeting is now over. I want you both out of here. Right now!"

"Marta -"

"No," she shouted, pointing at the man, "he has been snooping around my house!"

"**Marta**!" Connie exclaimed, pushing up from her chair. "I want to sign off here today. I want to let you get on that plane. But you have got to help us out." Marta grew quite barely controlling the tears that wanted to leak out of the corners of her eyes. "Look. We have got to do our job here. Okay? We have got to go through this. I need to know that are calm and safe before I leave here. And I need to know that you understand the rules before you get on that plane. Please, just - Please sit down." Dowd pulled out a chair for her at the head of the table and feeling like she had no other choice Marta took it. "And let us get through our questions."

As soon as she was seated they kicked her legs behind the chairs and grabbed her arms. Marta shrieked, terrified of what was about to happen to her. "What the - _Jesus!_ What is this? Get off!" But they didn't listen to her. Instead the man put the gun and in hand and forced her to aim at our own head.

"Ready?" Connie asked, over Marta's continued screams. Marta struggled as hard as she could, but it was two against one and slowly the gun found its way closer to its mark. "Get the hell off me! Get off me! Stop! Get off me now!"

"Set," the man questioned as if they were about to start a race. Marta threw all her strength into trying to fight him, but he was hurting her, his hands tight around hers.

"**Owww**!" _They're going to kill me! I'm about to die. _She wasn't going to stop fighting though. "Get off me!"

"Now." The man pressed her finger against the trigger, but before he could shot, something burst from her pantry. She fell to the ground in the ensuing chaos, a bullet narrowly missing her head. She could hear people fighting and three more shoots rang out before she forced herself to move and get the gun she'd seen flung across the room. Just in time too, because the man came flying over her table landing in the exact spot she had just vacated. She grabbed the gun and started shooting in the general direction of her attackers, before hightailing it upstairs. _Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! _She'd never shoot at anyone before. In fact she'd only bought the gun after Peter had left, because being on your own in a house like the one she was currently staying in could get really frightening at times.

Tucked into the corner between the phone and her wall, Marta's body was awash with fear and adrenalin. Her ears filled with the sounds of bullets with what seemed like forever. She tried the phone, but there was no dial tone so she threw it on the floor. Male voices and then silence. The silence scared her more than the bullets. She had no idea what they were doing or where they were. She couldn't think straight, her hands were shaking and all she could do was wait. Wait for the person that was going to kill her. She curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible and aimed the gun toward the door. If she was going to die, she wasn't going to make it easy for them. More gunfire and Marta shivered in fear, moving herself closer to the wall.

"Find her. Find her!" _Oh God, they were coming for her. _She could hear the footsteps on the stairs and she held her breath, afraid she would give herself away. Marta jumped at the sound of a shot so close to her room and heard the distinct thump of a body hitting the floor. Then more footsteps, this time coming towards her. A head looked in her door, but quickly drew back when he spotted her gun.

"Hey. Hey," the man spoke gently, his gun raised in the air as he entered the room. Fear gripped and she couldn't help pulling the trigger even though nothing was happening. "Unless you reloaded the gun empty. She buried her head between her arms not wanting to believe they'd sent Five to kill her and continued pulling the trigger. "Hey. Hey. Look. _Look!_ Dr. Shearing. It's me." She stared at him as he put his guns on the floor, her eyes as big as saucers. _He wasn't here to kill her?_ She felt him put a hand on the gun, but was to astonished by the sudden turn of events that she didn't even protest. She just refused to let go of it for now."I'm not here to hurt you. Okay?"

"How did you...?"

"Shh – "

"That was you?" They were having some kind of perverse tug of war with the gun even as she practically shouted at him for what? Saving her life? Shouldn't she be grateful? But she'd already been fooled once today and she didn't want to walk into another trap.

"Yes. Shh." Marta stared at him, not sure what to expect from him, but she quieted down as he threw another look towards the door. He was listening for the other agents some part of her mind reasoned and so she shut up. "Listen to me. Do you want to live? Look at me. Do you want to live?" Marta couldn't form the words she needed her mind drawing a blank. "Do you want to live?" He growled finally eliciting a response from her.

"Yes!"

"Good. Now let go of this gun."

"How is this possible?" She whispered aloud, as Five fulled the gun from her loose grip.

"Take this," he said, his eyes on the door as he placed a heavier gun in her hand. "Good." He nodded his approval. "How I need you to do exactly as I say?" Her mind started to wander and she was pretty sure she was beginning to go into shock, but Five harsh voice dragged her back into the present."Listen to me! Exactly what I say." He placed a watch in her hand. "Understand?"

"Yeah," she breathed. He told her that she needed to shoot the gun into the wall in two minutes and to watch the clock. She did so, finding that the simple task helped starve off some of the shock that was threatening to take hold of her again.

5...

4...

3...

2...

Marta fired the shot.

More gun fire followed and the sound of someone falling down the stairs.

"Hey Doc? I need my watch." Marta slowly stood up, using the wall to support her shaky knees. _Was it over? What the hell had just happened? _She moved to the doorway just as Five called out for his watch again. "Doc I need that watch." She walked toward him, her hands holding tightly to the gun and aforementioned watch. She felt like a zombie; like she'd just woken up in a surreal world where at any minute now she could die. She was only vaguely aware of Five as he stalked towards her, tucking his gun into the back of his jeans as he did so. "Are there Chems in this house? Programme medication?" He followed her movements as she tried to get a closer look at the body at the top of her stairs. She needed to know if they were dead.

"Are they all dead?" She voiced her thoughts unable to take her eyes off the women who'd almost staged her death not even ten minutes ago

"Yeah, they're dead," he confirmed, matter-of-factly. He was acting like any of this wasn't a big deal. And maybe it wasn't, but to her it meant the end of the life she knew and the start of something. She had no idea what that something might be. "Look at me. Look at me." Marta tried, but couldn't bring herself to look at him. She shut her eyes and slumped back against the wall. "Do you have programme medication here?"

"What?"

"Chems! Greens. Blues. Do you have them here?"

It took her mind a minute to catch up with what he was asking her, but eventually it penetrated some of the fog. _Chems? _"No. No! Here?!"

"Yeah," he said, strapping back on his watch. "Here."

"No, no, no," she repeated, trying to make sense of his question.

"Well, where then?" His hands closed around her upper arms and he shook her gently trying to get through to her. "Where? Where? Where do you have them?"

"Where?" She felt like a parrot, but she honestly could not comprehend why he would be looking for Chems in her house.

"Where do you keep the Chems?" He sounded frustrated with her, but she couldn't blame him.

"I don't know," she gasped out fearfully. She had no idea what he would do with her, but she knew she couldn't lie to him.

"Dr. Shearing, where are the Chems! I need the Chems!" Five's face contorted in anger as he tried to break through to her muddled mind.

"No, no, I understand, but I don't know," she choked out through the loop in her throat. "I...I...I...I..We..." Five let go of her, obviously letting her work through her thoughts. She put her hand to her head trying to talk past the headache that had formed. She needed to get her head back in the game if she was going to survive. "It's not something we do. We do virology. Control. So all of that happens... We don't have medication. If I had any, I would give it to you."

Five hands were suddenly on either side of her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes. She must like a frightened little rabbit caught in the headlights of a car, but she didn't break his gaze; even if it did make her quake in fear. As suddenly as he had taken her face in his hands, he relised her and looked down at his watch. "Listen to me," he commanded, more gently this time. He took her arms in his hands once again and looked her straight in the eyes."We have less than eight minutes to clear out of here. Okay?"

"Yes."

"Good." He took the gun from her hand – the gun she'd forgotten about – and checked the clip. "because the next thing coming through door is going to wipe us out." He pushed the clip back into place and raced down the stairs. "Grab your things," he called over his shoulder. She did and then she wandered downstairs, stood in the hall and watched Five douse her house in kerosene. She heard the static of a radio coming from her kitchen and saw Five run to grab it before the guy on the other end grew suspicious. She felt useless just standing there, but didn't know what else to do.

He returned after a few moments and she studied his face, her mind running on auto-pilot. He stopped in front of her and she stared at him unsure of what he held a lighter out towards her and flipped he lid back. "Probably better you do this." She reached out for it, her fingers grazing his thumb as she did so. She was too numb to feel anything then, but later she would be grateful that he allowed her to be the one to end that chapter of her life.


End file.
